


Redemption is harder than it looks (Part 1 of 2)

by Spike_1790



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spike_1790/pseuds/Spike_1790





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Redemption is harder than it looks (Part 1 of 2)  
 **Pairing:** Spike/Angel  
 **Rating:** This chapter: PG. Next chapter: R - NC-17  
 **Warnings:** This chapter: Language, angst Next chapter: m/m, language, spanking, possible dub-con and mentions of rape/abuse.  
 **Prompt:** #319- hopelessness @ [](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/profile)[ **tamingthemuse**](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/)  
 **A/N: UNBETA’D.** Yes, there are probably spelling mistakes; don't make a deal out of it, ok? :) The title is taken from Die Romantic by Aiden. This was originally started for [](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/)**tamingthemuse** #306- Redemption, but got kinda abandoned for a while.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don’t own the boys, no matter how much I beg and plead.

 **Summary** : Angel decides to make amends to the people he hurt as Angelus, starting with the Sunnydale crew

  
  


Dawn watched from the window as the black ’67 Plymouth pulled into the driveway. Angel had phoned the house earlier and from the side of the conversation she overheard, the vampire would be visiting Sunnydale. It had always struck her as stupid for a vampire to drive a convertible; Spike’s car was much more sensible. Although Xander had said that a car that size just meant that the blonde was trying to overcompensate for something. Spike had shown him right then and there that he had nothing that needed compensating for. Xander had blushed, squeaked and practically ran out the room. Dawn had tried to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t convincing.

Eavesdropping was a favourite hobby of Dawn’s. She had honed the skill to perfection through years of trying to annoy Buffy, and now it was paying off. The assembled Scoobies, Spike and Anya included, were seated in the Summers’ living room, Angel stood in front of them like he was teaching a class. Apologising to Buffy had been easy. He meant it when he said he was sorry, and he really did care for her. He meant it when he apologised to Giles too, although he knew that words would do little to make up for torturing the watcher and killing his girlfriend. Giles had nodded, but the steely glint remained in his eyes. Buffy cried. Dawn hadn’t expected anything less in all honestly. Like she had said to Riley, Buffy cried a lot when it came to Angel.

Angel offered to buy Willow some more fish to replace the ones he had killed, but that had been vetoed due mostly to Miss Kitty, who would probably eat said fish and Willow didn’t want to relive the trauma of losing another pet. The funniest part of Angel’s little speech was the look on his face when he was talking to Xander. He looked like he was chewing on a lemon. Spike had actually laughed when Xander made Angel start again because he ‘didn’t make it sound convincing’ the first time. It had been a real laugh too, not the forced kind he usually gave. And then Angel was leaving. Dawn frowned. There was at least one more person that needed to be addressed besides herself.

Spike slipped out, seemingly unseen by the others as Dawn ran to catch up with Angel. She grabbed him by the arm and as he turned to face her, she slapped him. Xander made a happy noise, but seemed to catch himself before he made the situation worse.

The slap hurt about as much as being tickled by a slightly annoyed moth, but, like her sister, Dawn was relentless. As her hand rose for another blow, Angel reached out and grabbed the teenager’s hands in his own. For a moment, he thought he was safe, and relaxed his grip. Xander barked out a laugh as the skinny brunette girl felled the six foot vampire with a single connection of knee to groin.

“What the hell, Dawn?!” Buffy screeched, dropping to her knees beside Angel, who was looking a little pale… well, paler…

“He owes more than you an apology! What about me? What about mom?” Dawn screamed back, determined not to cry. Against her will, the tears began to form of their own accord. Buffy’s expression softened, and she pulled the youngest Summers into a near-slayer-strength hug.

“Dawnie, mom’s gone. Saying sorry won’t fix anything,” Buffy replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her sister’s face.

“I know that. I’m not a kid. But when he was evil,” she said, aiming a glare at Angel, who was staggering back to his feet, “it was scary. I was scared and he’s acting like ignoring it can make it all better.” All eyes turned to Angel, waiting for his response. The Scoobies made a formidable opponent, all united that way, staring at him like he was the newest exhibit in a circus sideshow. Angel was used to accusatory stares, but this was different. This was… scary.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he muttered, directing his words to the floor. When he looked up again, he had the uncanny feeling that Xander was about to ask him to repeat that again, only sounding serious this time. But both men seemed satisfied with simply glaring at each other, for the time being at least. Dawn nodded her acceptance. It was the best she was likely to get from the demon.

“And what about Spike?” she asked.

This time, it was Angel that laughed. “Spike is a vampire. He’s as bad as Angelus was, and would have been worse were it not for that chip. He could have killed you all by now.”

“But he hasn’t!” Dawn shouted, ready to attack her sister’s former boyfriend again, however ineffectual it had been the first time.

“I’m not apologising to Spike. There’s no reason that you should know about that I should apologise,” he retorted.

“What about the reasons she shouldn’t know about?” Xander asked, shocking all of them, including himself, in his defence of Spike. “And I’m only saying this because watching Deadboy squirm is fun,” he defended again, this time of himself. It only sounded partially convincing.

“I’ve read the Watcher’s diaries. I know what you did to him. I know the things you made him do!”

“Dawn—“ Buffy started to admonish.

“No! Spike deserves an apology!” she screamed. “You act like a soul makes everything better, but it doesn’t! Saying sorry won’t fix anything. You’re still a vampire. Just like Spike.” When Angel continued to act like silence was the be all and end all, the thing that would solve all his problems, she let out a wordless scream and broke free of her sister’s hold, running off into the night, away from the

***

Spike was slouched in the chair in front of his fuzzy little television, bottle of cheap, most likely stolen whiskey in his hand, when Dawn got to his crypt. Her dramatic entrance was somewhat spoiled by the wide open door and Spike’s slurred “Hey. Slayer know you’re out playing with the Big Bads this time of night?”

“How did you—“

“Your heart beat sounds like a racehorse at the grand national,” he laughed. “Probably got demons lining up round the block to get a taste of you.”

“I told Angel to apologise to you,” Dawn announced. Spike blinked at her, and for a second she was sure he was going to say something full of gratitude for her efforts.

Spike laughed.

“And what reason could the great Angelus possibly have for apologising to little old me?” he asked, fixing her with an intent look.

“He hurt you.” Such a simple statement, but said with all the conviction that only a teenager could manage.  

“Angelus deals in pain and hopelessness and humiliation. It’s what he’s good at.”

“Then pay him back. Even the score,” she said, scowling.

“It’s not that simple, nibblet. There’s a power structure, yeah? And he has the upper hand.” It was said patiently, but Dawn could tell that the desperate to end the conversation.

All the fear Dawn had felt walking through the cemetery alone at night had dissipated. In place of fear was anger and frustration. “What happened to the vampire that was all ‘oh, screw ritual and tradition, I’m killing the slayer tonight’?”

Spike looked away. “He’s gone. You can blame Buffy’s soldier boy for that. Him and his tinker toy operation.”

Dawn all but growled at him before turning on her heel and storming back out into the night. Spike sighed and followed. She was right; he had gone soft. Just a few years ago, he would have said ‘sod it’ and let the girl get eaten by whichever hungry baddie had the munchies. Now he had to make sure she got home, even if she didn’t know he was there, following her.  

***  
  
Stay tuned for Part 2, coming soon to a LJ Post near you!

  



	2. Redemption is harder than it looks (Part 2 of 2)

**Title:** Redemption is harder than it looks (Part 2 of 2)  
 **Pairing:** Spike/Angel  
 **Rating:** R - NC-17  
 **Warnings:** this chapter: m/m, language, angst, spanking, possible dub-con and mentions of rape/abuse.  
 **Prompt:** #320- sculpture @ [](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/profile)[**tamingthemuse**](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/) & #20- Public figure of the 1990s and #21- music 2000-now @ [](http://kinda-gay.livejournal.com/profile)[**kinda_gay**](http://kinda-gay.livejournal.com/) pop culture table  
 **A/N:** **UNBETA’D.** Yes, there are probably spelling mistakes; don't make a deal out of it, ok? :) The title is taken from Die Romantic by Aiden. This was originally started for [](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/profile)[**tamingthemuse**](http://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/) #306- Redemption, but got kinda abandoned for a while. Chapter 1 can be found[ here](http://spike-1790.livejournal.com/45921.html).  
 **Disclaimer:** I don’t own the boys, no matter how much I beg and plead.

**Summary** : Angel decides to make amends to the people he hurt as Angelus, starting with the Sunnydale crew

  
  


Spike sensed Angel's presence long before he got back to his crypt. He had caught up with Dawn before she had reached the cemetery gates and the pair had walked back to Casa del Summers in companionable silence. Well, companionable if one redefined the word to include Dawn's vicious death glare.

Buffy had given them both a bollocking- Dawn for running off and Spike for being a bad influence on her little sister. Spike was relieved that he had managed to get away with nothing but a tongue lashing; that girl was getting a little too stake happy for Spike's comfort. Not that he'd admit it, of course...

Either way, a visit from his sire and a little trip down memory lane wasn't looking particularly appealing. He pushed open the crypt door and stepped in.

Angel sat on the edge of the stone sarcophagus, looking awkward and out of place. Spike supposed that he was- expensive clothes and aftershave that cost more per bottle than the total value of everything Spike owned didn't belong in a place like this.

Spike avoided looking Angel in the eye, afraid he'd find contempt in the dark pools, or worse, pity. He'd once said to Giles that pity was useless. Okay, the conversation had gone something along the lines of “Spike, while I pity your situation, you really should--” “Screw your 'pity', Watcher. Pity doesn't put blood on the table” but the sentiment was there.

“I thought you'd buggered off back to LA,” Spike said eventually, breaking the extended awkward silence. “Don't you have annoying teenagers and puppies to save from the likes of me?” He smiled a feral smile, the kind that struck fear into the hearts of humans and demons alike. Angel acted like he hadn't even noticed.

“You can't hurt anyone.”

Spike bristled at the blatant, off-hand dismissal. “So why are you here?”

Angel sighed. A deep, soulful sigh that irritated Spike beyond the telling, although he wouldn't admit that either. “I need to apologise to you.”

Spike waited, half-expectantly, but nothing seemed forthcoming. “Did the nibblet put you up to this?” Spike asked when it became apparent obvious that Angel wouldn't be saying anything any time soon.

“That girl's scary,” Angel shuddered, a wry smile gracing his lips.

Spike chuckled. “Damn right. I reckon it's a Summers women thing. Slayer's built to be scary, and Joyce... well, she was a feisty one, she was. You know she hit me over the head with an axe?” He chucked again. “Good times.”

Angel nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Well, I should go...” he began, only to be cut off by a sharp look from Spike.

“What about this big apology scene then?” he asked, his voice curiously devoid of any emotion.

“You've had it,” Angel replied, confused.

“No, you said you _needed_ to apologise. Saying you need to do something and actually doing it are different.” 

“Okay, okay,” Angel placated, hands raised in a submissive, 'you caught me, don't shoot' gesture. “I'm sorry.” 

Silence trickled into the spaces between the two vampires for long minutes. Neither moved. 

“Was that it? Is that all I get?” Spike asked eventually, disbelief colouring his words. 

“Don't be difficult, Spike. You've got what you wanted, now I'm going home.” Angel moved towards the door, but Spike was quicker. He blocked the older vampire's path, snarling and in game face. 

“That's not good enough,” he growled. “That wouldn't be good enough if you'd spilled someone's pint...”

Angel sighed again. Spike could hear the annoyance in the sound, like Spike was an inconvenience instead of a threat. It pissed him off. “What do you want, Spike?”

“Vengeance.” 

“Excuse me?” Angel replied, blinking at the blonde. 

“I want vengeance. An eye for an eye. I want you to suffer.” 

“Spike--”

“No! Twenty years we ran together. How many times did you beat me, huh? The things you made me do...” Spike barked out a hysterical little laugh. “Remember what you said, when I was in that wheelchair? 'You may be a killer, but your innocence is mine'?” 

Angel took a step towards Spike, hand outstretched, suddenly wanting to comfort the smaller vampire. The guilt was nearly overwhelming. He did remember saying that. And he remembered the helpless shudders that had wracked Spike's body, the silent tears that as Angelus reaffirmed his statement over and over until the blood dried on Spike's thighs and the blonde stopped struggling, too weak to do anything but let Angelus have his way. 

Spike stood still, focused on the still outstretched hand. He looked like a statue, a sculpture carved out of marble and ice, and Angel could smell the frisson of fear despite Spike's bravado. 

“That's not part of the game, is it?” Spike asked, his voice pitched so low that Angel had to strain to hear him. 

“We're not playing. This is my redemption,” Angel explained. 

“There is no redemption. It's all just a game and there's no shining light at the end of the tunnel. Doing your Princess Di routine won't make up for the blood you've spilled. You're a demon. If you wanted to be a man you should have done a better job of it when you had the chance, and not gone running off into the arms of undead street walkers.” 

Angel bristled. “You can talk! You all but begged Dru to turn you.” His teeth were bared, showign fang. 

Spike smiled. “Yeah, but I never looked back.” His body slumped slightly. “Now get gone if I don't get my justice. There's a bag of Miss Piggy in the fridge with my name on it.” 

And just like that, the door was clear. Angel could leave. But he didn't. Instead, he watched Spike's progress across the room, listening to the clunk of each step as the battered Doc Martens hit the stone and the sound echoed. The blonde opened the tiny fridge door and in the dim light, Angel could see it was empty but for a single bag of blood. 

Spike grabbed the bag and bit into it hungrily. The stench of rancid blood hit Angel like a two tonne Mac truck. Not even in he, in the height of his sewer dwelling, rat eating guilt trip would have deigned to drink that. 

Spike caught sight of Angel's appalled expression and rolled his eyes. “It's not so bad once you get used to it. Besides, its hard earned, this is.” 

Angel's eyes snapped up from the empty blood bag to Spike's face. The blonde was looking away, fiddling with the edge of the bag. There was something there, something Angel didn't want to think about. Something that made him feel sick. “What did you do?” he demanded. 

“That's none of your business. Now fuck of back to your illusions of redemption, yeah?” Spike turned his back on Angel and the brunette had the sudden feeling that he'd been dismissed. 

Spike could feel Angel's eyes watching him. It made his skin crawl. Why couldn't the old bastard just leave and let Spike gather up the shattered remains of his dignity in peace? 

“Do it,” Angel whispered. Spike turned, unsure he'd heard right. 

“What was that?” he asked, watching Angel warily even though the larger man wasn't moving. 

“I said, 'do it'. Take your vengeance, or whatever you want to call it.” There was no tell in Angel's voice, no clue that let Spike know if this was a bluff or if the other vampire meant it. 

Tentatively, Spike crept forward, lowering himself onto the battered arm chair. Angel followed, dropping to his knees beside the chair in a submissive way, head hung, hands clasped behind his back. He looked up at Spike, seeing uncertainty in the pale features. “Just answer me one thing, Spike. What made you want this?” 

Spike cracked a smile. “It's recently been pointed out to me that I am, in fact, not living up to my big bad reputation, and the Big Bad wouldn't accept your poncey little 'sorry'.” Angel nodded. “Now,” Spike continued, “drop trou and get yourself over my knee.” Angel stared at him for a moment, mouth open in shock. Spike decided that he liked that look. “Haven't got all night, pet,” he remarked as Angel continued to gawk at him. 

Quick as lightning, Spike grabbed a handful of Angel's hair, pulling back hard, tilting Angel's face upwards. “I said, take your trousers down, boy,” he hissed, unsure of whether he was channelling his own inner bad guy, or whether he was simply mirroring Angelus' words and actions from over a century ago.

Either way, it had the desired effect. Angel kicked off his shoes and unbuckled the thick leather belt holding up his expensive black pants. Spike made a mental note of the belt and filed it away for later. 

Angel stood in front of him, wearing black socks, a black button down shirt and silk boxers in a deep plumb colour. Spike looked him over. “Knickers off too,” he said, watching the play of emotions over Angel's face. Righteous indignation came first, followed swiftly by anger, chased by embarrassment. That was what Spike had wanted. 

The boxers hit the floor with barely a whisper of sound. Spike patted his knee invitingly, although Angel knew it wasn't an invitation he'd be allowed to refuse. Spike watched with interest as Angel crossed the few feet between them, soft cock swaying with every step, partially hidden by the bottom of the shirt. 

Spike shifted, breathing deeply. Angel draped himself over Spike's lap as elegantly as possible, reflecting briefly on how hard it was to maintain any dignity and composure while his bare arse was in the air, under Spike's scrutiny and his soft dick was hanging mockingly. His thoughts centred momentarily on the door; if anyone came in and saw him like this... 

As if reading his thoughts, Spike chuckled. “Don't worry- no one comes this way unless there's an apocalypse brewing.” Angel relaxed slightly. 

The slap came as something of a shock. It was light, barely there. Spike's hand smoothed the area and Angel thought he felt a tremor in the usually confident vampire's touch. The second slap was harder, leaving a tingle in its wake before it was stroked away. The third slap was harder still, more confident, more sure, and to his shame, Angel felt his dick twitch and begin to fill. 

Within minutes, Angel was moaning, thrashing his head from side to side, his cock fully erect and dripping pre-cum onto the stone floor. His hips snapped up and down, pressing up into every stinging slap, simultaneously desperate to escape and desperate for more, for friction to ease the ache building in his balls. 

“Don't fight it,” Spike whispered. A flurry of harder strokes rained down over his upper thighs and lower back. Angel gave a hitching sob and came over the hem of his shirt and the leg of Spike's jeans. He lay there, relaxed but feeling the burn of humiliation rising. He didn't have long to bask in the afterglow though, as Spike was pushing him roughly to the floor. 

“Clean your mess up.” Spike indicated the damp, white patch on his jeans. Angel wanted to ask Spike to stop, but he had never given Spike that option, not a century ago, nor in the brief period where he was soulless. 

In a way, he was lucky; Spike hadn't dealt out half the punishment Angelus had bestowed on the younger vampire. But that made it worse. Yes, Angelus had spanked Spike until the blonde had ejaculated, and had done so in front of Darla and Dru, but the younger vampire had held out much longer and handled much more pain than Angel just had. And when Angelus had demanded that Spike cleaned his spending from his clothes, it had been cleaned with lips and tongue. William had such a talented mouth... 

He refused to wallow in self pity as he lapped up the salty fluid. Spike could have demanded so much worse, and probably would before this was over. The point was to make him understand, to make his apology mean something. His fingers brushed over Spike's flies, knowing exactly what would be expected of him next if Spike was playing this the way Angelus would have done, the way he had done so many times. 

To his surprise, his questing fingers were batted away. Spike stood up, striding to the trapdoor that Angel hadn't noticed before. “Get naked and on the bed,” Spike instructed. Angel scrambled to comply. 

Dropping to the carpeted ground, his clothes were removed as fast as possible. There was no point in pissing Spike off and delaying would only do that. He took the time for one deep, shaky breath before laying face down on Spike's bed. 

*** 

Spike pulled Angel's belt through the loops of the discarded pants, snapping the leather against his palm. It made a delicious cracking noise that only good leather on skin could make. This would be the real test. If he could manage this, Angel would get the forgiveness he desired. 

*** 

The wait was agonising. Angelus had known that, had made his victims suffer in the knowledge that they would suffer. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed, and the longer the wait, the more time there was to imagine all the horrible things that could happen. It built a tension that made every shadow a terrifying spectacle. Many of his victims had been on the brink of insanity by the time he had returned to end their lives. 

Spike didn't have the time to keep Angel chained and bound and developing the levels of fear and tension for that, but even the short time Angel was on Spike's bed was nerve wracking. He felt vulnerable. It didn't help that Spike had a couple of decades experiencing first hand exactly what Angelus was capable of. The blonde had the potential to make him suffer. Angel shuddered. 

*** 

Spike dropped silently down into the lower level, Angel's belt gripped tight in his hand. The older vampire was spread out like a virgin sacrifice. Spike swallowed audibly. Angel shuddered at the sound. 

Kneeling on the bed between Angel's spread legs, Spike stroked the leather down the line of Angel's spine. One hand caressed the smooth skin of the larger man's buttocks, which had returned to the normal creamy white colour they had been before the spanking they had been given. The belt trailed up and down Angel's back. Then, without warning, the leather slapped against his skin. Angel gasped and flinched. Three more powerful blows followed, hard enough to raise deep red welts. Then nothing. 

Angel lay gasping. He wanted to brush his fingers over the stinging lines, to make sure there was no blood welling up, not that he'd blame Spike for it if he was bleeding. It was no less than he deserved. 

Off the bed, Spike stripped his clothes, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. Picking up the belt again, he knelt once more between Angel's legs. This time, instead of maintaining the impersonal space he had created before, he stretched out on top of the larger body, feeling it tense beneath him. Grasping both of Angel's wrists in one hand, Spike brought the belt up and bound the brunette's hands. 

Angel shook beneath him. Spike sat up slowly, making sure to keep as much contact between their bodies as possible. Tears sprung to Angel's eyes when he heard the snick of a bottle opening and felt Spike's strong fingers teasing his ass. His resolve broke when he felt the slick slide of lube against his hole, and fat tears began to fall. 

“Please, Spike,” he sobbed. 

Spike continued rubbing the lube against Angel's resisting channel. “Please what, Angel?” 

“Please stop.” 

And like flipping a switch, the slick, questing finger was gone. Spike knelt back, waiting for Angel to turn over. When he did, Spike released the wrists from their confines. Angel stared at the blonde. Spike was soft. Angel shook his head, dragging his gaze from the flaccid cock up to Spike's amused smile. 

“I'm not you. I'm not Angelus. I don't want redemption and I can't do half the shit you put me and Dru through. Now get dressed and shove off. This concludes our business.” Spike pulled on his jeans and climbed back up the ladder. 

When Angel pulled himself together enough to get off Spike's bed and back to the upper level of the crypt, Spike was sat stiffly in the arm chair, watching television. He didn't move as Angel finished redressing. 

Angel hesitated for a moment at the door. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't form. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. 

“Angel,” Spike called out to him. “Stay out of my town, yeah?” 

Angel growled and ran at Spike, pulling him out of the chair and slamming the blonde against the sarcophagus. Spike laughed. 

“This is the Angel I was expecting to see,” he grinned. “How about a kiss for old times sakes?” At Angel's furious expression, he laughed again. Angel did the only thing he could do. He kissed Spike. 

The two grappled together, Spike tearing off Angel's shirt, buttons pinging off the walls and floor. Angel dragged his nails down Spike's back, making the blonde whine in pleasure. Both dropped their human faces and allowed their demons full reign. Angel shredded Spike's jeans, leaving the tattered shreds on the floor and the smaller man naked. Spike pushed at the waist band of Angel's pants. Together they managed to wrestle Angel's troublesome clothes from his body. 

Angel kissed Spike again, fangs piercing lips and tongue. Spike kissed back just as hard. He wrapped his legs round Angel's waist and moaned when Angel breached him in one swift movement. 

Spike was tight, and Angel couldn't help but thrust into the grasping passage. Once again, Spike's blood eased his movements, but he didn't care. Within minutes, Angel felt a wash of cool fluid against his stomach and the muscles gripping him spasmed rhythmically. He howled his release before collapsing heavily on top of Spike. 

When the blood seeped back into his brain, cold dread trickled back in with it. Angel gently withdrew his rapidly softening cock from Spike's body, and the blonde moaned at the loss. 

“Fuck. God, Spike, I'm so sorry!” 

“In case you didn't notice, I wasn't complaining,” Spike said, wincing as he sat up, putting pressure on his abused arse. 

“That's not the point! I shouldn't have done that!” There was anguish in Angel's voice. 

“Whatever. We're even.” Spike stood up, unashamed of his nudity. “If your done saying sorry, get out of my home. If you want to say sorry again, I wouldn't be complaining...” He leered at Angel. 

The brunette dressed again, doing his best to hold his shirt closed while avoiding looking at Spike, who was casually smoking a cigarette. Spike's laugh followed him from the crypt as he rushed out into the night. 

“I meant what I said, Angel- stay out of my town!” he shouted to the retreating form. Of course, that didn't mean that Spike would be staying out of LA. Oh, no. In fact, he'd be paying a little visit to Angel very soon. 

  



End file.
